Distillation
by Tabi
Summary: Koizumi finds it perhaps a little too easy to box his life into neat categories. Kyon/Koizumi


_distillation_

While he knew that the idea made sense in theory, Koizumi had no personal recollection of the first time he'd become aware of Suzumiya Haruhi's presence in the world. All he knew was what they _all_ knew: _three years ago._ Three years ago, he knew, there had to have been a break that separated the 'before' and the 'after'. At the start of the year, he was unaware of Suzumiya Haruhi or anything relating to her. By the end of the year, it was his purpose and she was his world. Even then, he knew no more than _there is a presence in this world and her name is Suzumiya Haruhi_. And there should have been some kind of event, one definite point in his life where this had all been made clear, but none of it was clear and he didn't remember. He knew, rationally, that she couldn't have always been, but to think back felt like that, now. Had that point really been when she had recreated the world? He would listen to Asahina-san talk of the matter, and he would wonder. He'd wonder.

To say that Haruhi was everything, she was still just one human girl. Koizumi would have to remind himself of this, sometimes. When he transferred, he wasn't sure what to expect. When the door of his new classroom had slammed open and she appeared before him with no warning and suddenly demanding his presence, he had gone along without question. Of _course_ he went along without question. This was Suzumiya Haruhi, after all. _The _Suzumiya Haruhi. The most precarious, the most delicate, the most _important_.

And yet she was still just _one girl_. A charismatic girl, a tornado of energy, but still _a girl_. When she was being loud and pushing Kyon around, Koizumi would smile and consider this. All of the past meetings and theories and research paled in comparison to this. The Organisation said so much and yet, Koizumi felt, understood so little. The concepts that they threw around were so grand in scale and seemed to treat her every move like a hypothesis for something larger, never once stopping to consider what it was like to spend time with her, to see her smile and laugh and _live_.

_Monitor her_, they'd say.

_Observe her_.

Sometimes it was easy to get carried away.

It had been several days before he'd been put on the front line that Koizumi had been given the files on Kyon. He'd smile at that, _I knew your name long before you had the chance to tell me what it was_. And he'd looked over those files in his bedroom the night before, not _knowing_ that it was the night before--. He read with as much curiosity as anybody else at the Organisation had. Other factions were already making their move, but this--... a normal boy? Honestly? That went against every prior theory. There had to be something--.

They would ask him, sometimes. _Have you gathered any more information on the subject? _They didn't mean Haruhi. There was a case number, somewhere. The Organisation could reduce every person alive to numbers and statistics, if they really wanted to. Koizumi knew that Kyon was more than just a number, but never argued his point. Haruhi was more than simply a girl who held the possibility of being 'god', not that they'd listen.

Koizumi soon learnt that everything about Kyon was normal but for his situation. This, in itself, was abnormal. He kept that observation to one side. Kyon didn't need to know all the time Koizumi spent thinking about him, in a purely academic fashion of _course_. All of those reports. _Subject. Case number._

That level of normality, Koizumi learnt, could be quite addicting. It wasn't that Koizumi didn't make friends easily, more the opposite - and _that_ was a problem. There were only so many ways you could explain 'part-time work' to a person, after all. You were never not on call. This made planning things difficult; nobody minded Koizumi's absence when given an explanation, but somehow that just felt worse.

He would smile for Haruhi, so that she'd never suspect. He'd smile for the Organisation, so they didn't ask. He smiled for the people in his class, so they'd never know. With Kyon, he didn't have to smile. He treasured that.

For a normal person, Kyon knew a lot. Too much, some might have said. Too much for a _normal_ person. Koizumi heard whispers, sometimes. Kyon was close to Asahina, wasn't he? To Nagato? Nevermind the fact that he was _the one_ that Suzumiya Haruhi _herself_ chose, too. Koizumi knew that as friendship, some in the Organisation saw that as an opportunity. An opportunity for _what_, nobody had quite yet worked out. Koizumi felt it would be best if things were to stay that way.

It was impossible to explain to anybody else the concept of closed space and again, easy to get carried away. Using psychic powers to save the world? Surely there was nobody alive who could hear that and not think it just a little bit impressive, almost like some superhero. Fighting giant ethereal monsters in closed-off areas of the city. Koizumi would smile to himself sometimes, afterward, wondering when and how it was exactly that his life had taken this turn.

(Three years ago.)

(_Her._)

Kyon wanted proof. Koizumi was delighted.

The others were already there; they were waiting, but Koizumi knew he had some slight leeway to take his time. He spoke of things he knew Kyon wouldn't understand, both marvelling and despairing inside on how easy this was. _You're lucky this is me, _Koizumi thought. His motivations were at least pure; there were other members of the Organisation, he knew, who might not have been so lenient. But things hadn't turned out that way, so it was fine. This was fine. Kyon already seemed to believe Nagato and Asahina, and what proof could _they_ bring? Koizumi relished the prospect of being able to show somebody, actually being able to _show_ somebody.

When he took Kyon's hand, the contact was brief. That was as much as he dared express.

He went home afterwards, silently exhausted from the battle and deep in thought. Kyon had been inside the closed space. There, he was able to witness all that went on there; the Shinjin, the other Espers, the still and claustrophobic atmosphere of being confined in that very precise space. He saw what Haruhi caused, he saw how they were disposed of. He was there, and he'd seen it all.

_He was watching._

And yet, sometimes, afterwards, it felt like it had gone too far in the other direction. They met and they conversed, but it was always about _her_. That was always going to be the case. Nonetheless, Koizumi would leaf through his files afterwards and feel dissatisfied for it; _this is all too clinical._

He didn't know how to class or quantify his desire for Kyon. Didn't know if he was supposed to. Every meeting would leave him wanting something more, but he wasn't sure precisely what that was. Nor what he could request, either. With Haruhi, he'd had to distil the concept of a girl who meant everything down into the shell of one human being. With Kyon, here was perhaps almost the entire opposite; one boy whose only outstanding quality was that he possessed no particular outstanding quality, this in turn making him far more interesting for it. Koizumi would let days go by and no reports would be written. He wasn't sure he'd ever been prepared for meeting Suzumiya Haruhi, but knew that he'd never been prepared for meeting Kyon. Had never been prepared for all the strange side-effects that came from being _normal_.

He would lie awake through the night and think of Kyon, not knowing what any of it meant. Knowing that this was the first time that he'd been so completely at a loss to explain the situation. Anything else, there was always something that could be done. Someone else who could be asked. Some theory to be explored, some research to be made. This, however, was an interpersonal relationship between two people only, and Koizumi knew there would be no answers were he to ask Kyon directly. _Ask_ him. Ask him _what_...?

It was at the beginning of the winter school holiday that Koizumi phoned Kyon, early on a Saturday morning. He apologised for waking him, as he supposed he had. Kyon asked no questions; he'd be there as soon as was possible.

Stood in a scarf and watching the clouds of his own breath dissipate, Koizumi saw Kyon before Kyon thought to look in his direction. He parked his bike and came running over, leant with his hands against his knees for a few moments as he caught his breath. Koizumi only watched him. Eventually, Kyon looked upward.

"... So? What is it? What's happened?"

"... 'Happened'...?" A light smile. "Does something always have to _happen_?"

"You called me out here, so I thought--..."

Koizumi laughed softly at the misunderstanding, because it was easier. "I simply thought that it was a pleasant day for the time of year, and that perhaps it would be nice for us to spend some time together. While things are peaceful. After all, isn't that--" He stopped, wondering if that was going too far. But Kyon was watching him, so he felt the need to speak.

"... Isn't this what friends do...?"

Kyon stood up, straightening himself out. He frowned slightly, obviously taken aback by this. "I... I guess?" He scratched the back of his neck. "So, uh... what... did you want to do? I, I mean, was there anywhere in particular you wanted to go...?"

Koizumi smiled, because sometimes he wanted to smile with Kyon, too. This was awkward, but satisfactory.

It was a start.


End file.
